A Partial Print
by trailinganvil
Summary: An interpretation of the events of the Last Straw. The words of Flemeth race through Hawke's mind as she watches the Chantry explode.
1. Chapter 1

_"__There can be no turning back."_

The ground beneath began to shake, a beam of light bursting through the Chantry roof. The night sky was burning with light, Sundermount glowing in a bright red haze. Rocks and mortar swirled into the beam, the Chantry collapsing around it.

Hawke stared, eyes wide, as storm clouds rose above Kirkwall. The smell of burning filled the air, and speckles of soft dust rained down onto her skin. Sebastian cried out in horror beside her. Orsino and Meredith, silent.

Hawke glanced at Anders. The months of lies and deceit now revealed to her. Hawke could see the tide that would carry them forward into madness. Meredith would call for blood. The Kirkwall Circle would fall. It was inevitable. Anders had known, he had seen.

She could take him into her arms, run from this. Nothing need tear them apart. _Nothing._ None in this courtyard could stand against her.

But he was right, there could be no turning back. From the ashes of the Chantry, revolution would rise. From the ashes, a leader could rise. An apostate from Kirkwall, the famed Champion, could stand against the Knight-Commander.

The Champion of Kirkwall, a title which had gifted her nothing but chains. She had been left helpless to ease the burdens of those enslaved by Meredith. Helpless to prevent the Rite of Tranquillity. Helpless to stop chasm which had grown between Anders and her.

And now, with the Chantry burning behind her, she could break free. This was the choice before her. She could run with Anders, leave them to their struggle, break free from the shackles. Or she could rise, be the leader of the revolution. Words long pondered flashed in her mind.

_"__We stand upon the precipice of change. The world fears the inevitable plummet into the abyss. Watch for that moment... and when it comes, do not hesitate to leap. It is only when you fall that you learn whether you can fly."_

* * *

"Why? Why would you do such a thing?" Orsino's shrill voice cut through Hawke's thoughts.

"I removed the chance of compromise, because there _is _no compromise."

No compromise. Words Anders had spoken to her, only days after she had defeated the Arishok. Words she had tried to fight, and had instead tried to use her influence to help mages escape from the Gallows. But there were always more she could not save, each new tranquil mage a symbol of her failure.

"The Grand Cleric has been slain by magic, the Chantry destroyed."

Meredith was nothing but predictable. Orsino no better, awkwardly spluttering his empty words of protest. Hawke watched them bicker, bicker like children over the lives of the Circle mages. Hawke saw it clearly. Meredith would kill them all. Anders must have seen this, months before. A truth she had not been willing to listen to. Instead, she had let him drift apart, had led him to this place. Compromise had never been an option. _It is only when you fall that you learn whether you can fly. _

"It can't be stopped now. You have to choose," Anders turned to her.

A choice. No, he could not know what ran through her mind. _It is only when you fall that you learn whether you can fly._

"Was that... why you needed me to distract the grant cleric?" she asked.

A part she must play now, the gullible victim. Varric knew the power of words, had taught her when spinning a tale was necessary.

"If you knew what I was doing, you would have felt honour bound to stop me. I couldn't take that chance," Hawke's eyes widened at Ander's words.

Honour bound to stop him? She would have stood with him, helped him to save all those kept in the cage of the Circle.

"The Circle is an injustice, in many places beyond Kirkwall. The world needs to see," Anders continued.

Anders had kept his plans from her, tricked her into helping him. She wished… but no. Now instead, it was her who must voice a lie for others to hear. The Circle _was_ an injustice, one she could not let stand. Others must see. _It is only when you fall that you learn whether you can fly._

"You fool, you've doomed us all," Orsino interjected.

"We were already doomed. A quick death now or a slow one later – I'd rather die fighting,"

A voice inside her began to protest, becoming louder, threatening to overwhelm her. _You cannot do this thing!_

"You're a murderer. The grant cleric, the mages... their blood is on your hands!" the lie ripped from her throat.

"I know," Anders replied, his shoulders sagging.

Her lie had been seen as truth. Those two small words of agreement threatened to overwhelm her. Hawke gripped her hands around her staff, struggling to keep herself steady. _You cannot do this thing!_

"Even if I wished to, I could not stay my hand. The people will demand blood," Meredith stated.

Hawke almost laughed. The people would not demand the blood of the whole Circle, no, only Meredith was insane enough for that.

"I won't let her slaughter all of you," Hawke said, her voice carrying across the courtyard.

With those words, she called out to all mages trapped in the shackles of the Circle. This injustice could not continue. Anders had known, from the beginning. A mage could not hope for happiness.

"Think carefully, Champion. Stand with them, and you share their fate," Meredith said.

Yes, finally she would stand with them. For years she had stood apart, protected by her status as Champion. Telling herself she was making a difference. Anders had known better.

"I'm not helping you Meredith."

"You are a fool, Champion. Kill them all, I will rouse the rest of the order," Meredith shouted to her Templars.

"Go! Get to the Gallows before it's too late," Orsino cried, desperation in his voice.

Varric drew Bianca, a bolt flying into the chest of the nearest Templar. Hawke slammed her staff into the group, power rippling from the tip, scattering the Templars across the courtyard. One began to rise to his knees, but a ball of fire escaped from her hands and careened into his chest. There would be no mercy.

* * *

Hawke relaxed the grip on her staff, the last Templar falling to Aveline's sword.

"So it's come to this. I don't know if we can win this war Champion, but... thank you. I will leave your – friend for you to deal with," disdain filled Orsino's voice. "I must return to the Gallows. Meet me there as soon as you can."

Hawke looked over to Anders. He was hunched over, sitting on a crate, staring at the floor. She stepped toward him, her heart pounding in her chest, fear coursing through her body. She wanted to cry out, wanted to run from here. _You cannot do this thing! _

_It is only when you fall that you learn whether you can fly._

"There's nothing you can say that I haven't already said to myself. I took a spirit into my soul and changed myself forever to achieve this. This is the justice all mages have awaited."

There was so much she wanted to say, but could not. She had to be the Champion. A Champion could not be tainted by what her love had done.

"I might have understood, if you'd only told me," regret escaped from her lips.

"I wanted to tell you. But what if you stopped me? Or worse, what if you wanted to help? I couldn't let you do that. The world needs to see this. Then we can all stop pretending the Circle is a solution. And if I pay for that with my life – then I pay. Perhaps then Justice would at least be free."

_The world will see this, I promise that to you._ Her hand brushed the dagger she kept at her hip, the dagger of last resorts, the dagger for if her magic failed. Shaking, she took it into her grip. She stood paralysed. _Do not do this thing! You cannot! _She must.

"You'll have to pay for what you've done."

"I know. For what it's worth, I'm glad it's you. It was nice to be happy, at least for a while."

Every word caused a fracture across her heart, a break in her resolve. She hesitated, bringing the tip of the dagger to his back. Her other hand rested on his shoulder. She felt him tense in her grip, and she clutched him tighter in response. _Do not do this! _

She closed her eyes, and twisted the knife into his body. A gasp escaped Anders lips. She jerked away in horror as his body slumped forwards, slipping away from her.

_Watch for that moment... and when it comes, do not hesitate to leap. It is only when you fall that you learn whether you can fly._


	2. Chapter 2

A burning statue was all that remained of the Knight Commander. Hawke watched the fire rise from the body; red, an echo of the destruction that had risen from the Chantry. Knight Captain Cullen stared at Hawke a moment, sword drawn, his templars surrounding her. She waited, willing him to finish it, to end it. But no, he stepped away.

And now it was done. She followed Aveline toward the gates of Kirkwall. There was nothing left for her.

"You must run, Hawke" Aveline said.

Hawke nodded numbly, but an image flashed in her mind of the Arishok. Meredith had strung him up for the whole city to see. The templars, they would do the same to Anders. She knew. She could not let that happen.

"Aveline, I can't. I cannot leave him, not like with Wesley... with Bethany, Carver."

Aveline hesitated, a flash of pain in her eyes. _S__he__ would not compare Wesley with what I have done here._

"I will speak with the Knight Captain. But Hawke, you cannot linger long."

* * *

The rain poured down on Kirkwall, thrashing against the stone floor. Pools of blood stained the square, the bodies of templars strewn along the ground. Her eyes drifted toward the crate in the centre, toward the robed body lying next to it. And suddenly she could not move. She could not bring herself to walk forward.

Words from the witch flashed in her mind once more. Atop Mount Sundermount, her speech completed, the witch had sauntered passed her, her eyes mocking. _You have my thanks… and my sympathy. _

Hawke steeled herself, clenched her fists, and took a step. And another. An eternity to cross the courtyard. Her legs gave way when she arrived at the crate. Her hands shaking, she reached forward instinctively to bring him into an embrace. But he was stiff, cold, and deserved better than her touch.

She saw the knife still embedded into his back, and averted her eyes. Forcing herself to look, she took the dagger into her grip. She pulled it from his flesh, a sob wrenching from her lips. It clattered onto the stone beside her.

Rain dripped down onto the dagger, cleansing the splatters of blood. She watched it, minutes passing, her eyes refusing to look at the body before her. She picked the dagger up, wiping the blood with the cloth from her robe. She clenched the ornate grip, sliding it back into her scabbard. This crime, it was hers. Not one to be left behind in Kirkwall. Not something to discard. Not something to be forgiven.

Hawke's mind shifted back and forth, memories clouding her mind. One was bright, clear. She had been running through the sewers, Anders at her side. Varric, Aveline. Betrayal had awaited them as they emerged at the end of the tunnel on the edge of the Wounded Coast. Qunari standing on the beach, attacking as soon as they realised she was everything they feared. Afterwards, the Qunari mage, the _saarebas, _finally free in a blaze of light and heat.

She lifted herself to her feet. A ball of fire formed in her hands. Crude magic. Another memory. Anders, telling her she would never have the skill for the delicate art of healing. Too impulsive. A furnace grew in her hands, the heat rising. Yes, impulsive. And a fool.

She watched her fingers begin to blister, the pain lacing up her arm. Sudden release, she pushed the blaze away from herself, watched it engulfed the body on the floor.

Movement behind her, she grabbed her staff from the floor, her burnt fingers protesting. She span. Ten paces away stood a young woman, a burn puckering the skin across half of her face. One arm blackened, burnt, the fabric of her clothes melted into her skin. Hawke brought her staff across her body, watching the figure. It moved toward her slowly, making no move to attack. Hawke turned, her eyes back on the funeral pyre.

"He wanted you to be free," Hawke said.

"Yes, he did," the corpse paused. "But I am no longer just a creature of the fade."

"I had to deceive," Hawke began. "I wanted- "

"I know," Justice cut in.

"Did he?" she whispered.

No answer. Silence fell between them. Together they watched as the fire flickered out, leaving only blackened ash on the ground.

"Anders knew a mage dare not fall in love. He dreamed, just for a while," Justice eventually said.

"This fight, it was a burden we could have shared. You just wouldn't see it."

"We did. From the day we met you, we knew you were a leader that other mages could look to. And we could never be that, not with what we are," Justice hesitated. "What we _were_."

"I know Anders wished we had met before all this" Hawke drew her cloak closer, the rain falling more heavily. "But I could always see you there. His strength. This will mean little to you, but I love you both."

Gently kissing the unblemished cheek, she moved to leave, but Justice gripped her hand sharply.

"It is _everything_ to me."

Hawke nodded, fresh tears spilling down her cheeks.

* * *

Later, it was said that mages gathered behind her, this Champion of the City of Chains, as she walked her long path from the city. Forward, to the rebellion.

* * *

**This story has sat on my computer since the days of DAII, and playing Inquisition reminded me of it. This was how I made sense of Flemeth's appearance on Mount Sundermount in Act II. I welcome any comments and criticism.**


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